


Two sides to every Denarii

by Plinycapybara



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Ancient History, Ancient Rome, Blood, Classics, Eremin - Freeform, Forbidden Love, Germany, Gladiators, Gore, Italy, M/M, Nobility, Slavery, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plinycapybara/pseuds/Plinycapybara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Yeager...is a captured Germanic "barbarian", sold into slavery and convinced to battle for his freedom by becoming a gladiator. He swears that once he gains his freedom, he will destroy Rome, and kill every last Roman to avenge his family and tribe. </p><p>Arminius Arlertius....is the shy, but witty nephew of the Roman Emperor. He has been promised a successful political career since the time he was born, along with possibility of becoming emperor himself. He thinks that everyone has planned his future out for him--until a blood-drenched gladiator catches his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodlust and Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I do not own SnK. If I did, why would I be here?

Chauci territory (modern Northwestern Germany) 

Tiny pieces of sunlight shone through the canopy of trees as naked men in silence. Their eyes peeled wide open at their enemy. Their hearts accelerating with each moment as they listened to the approaching march. Their thorn-pricked feet covered in dew as they whispered amongst themselves. Among them was a green-eyed, brown-haired young man. 

His naked back scrapped the bark of a mighty tree as the fifteen-year-old tried to peer over at the advancing legion. ‘Don’t back down....don’t back down...you can’t back down, Eren.’ 

“Eren, are the women and children safely in the caves?” His friend Jean’s voice echoed through the woods. Jean was leading the defense of his tribe, the Chauci.  
“Yes,” Eren answered.  
“Good-”  
“Jean! I’ve got terrible news--we’re out of arrows.” Marco interrupted.  
“Marco, I told you not to attack until they came one mile from the Elbe.”  
“We didn’t have a choice. They started attacking with their phalanx before we could organize our counterattack.” Marco answered, “Besides, they were already at the Elbe,”  
“What,” Jean asked, “Then, these are just reinforcements,” he turned to the advancing legions.  
“I’m afraid so. We’re going to lose, Jean.” Marco sighed.  
“I will die before I submit to Roman rule!” Jean snapped, “To have to kiss hooves of their horses and clean their stables. I will not be treated like an animal!”  
“Then you will die.” Marco grimaced, “We all will,”  
“You’ll die with me.” Jean cried. 

“CALVARY! THIS IS THE LAST OF THEM! SHOW THEM NO MERCY!” 

\----------------

“Why is it that’s the first memory I think of when I try to remember my homeland?” Eren glanced down at the pair of dice. He glanced further down at his sandals and dust-covered feet. Eren wasn’t used to this much sunlight and humidity. His forehead sweat and his cheeks had turned pink. Lying back on the column, he felt the rag that he was given by the circus master--Gaius Levius, or Levi as most of the trainees and gladiators knew him. Eren wasn’t really that used to wearing clothing, and a scratchy rag wasn’t a good introduction to it.  
“I guess since its the most recent, ya’know?” Cornelius, or “Connie” as some his fellow gladiators called him, suggested. Connie was a former sculptor from the island of Crete, in debt over his eyeballs, and for that he sold himself. “Another round? You might win this time,”  
“Not in the mood,” Eren sighed.  
“Suits you,” Connie shrugged, “Aren’t you going next week?”  
“Yeah,” Eren answered.  
“Who or what are you fighting,” Connie asked.  
“I don’t know,” Eren answered.  
“This is going to be your first time, though, right?” Connie asked.  
“It is, and what of it?” Eren asked.  
“Just wondering is all,” Connie sighed, “Why’d you decide to become a gladiator, anyway? Like, what do you think you’d get out of this, anyway?”  
“Once I win my freedom...I will destroy Rome. I will kill every last Roman.” Eren answered, his eyes filled with passionate rage, “I will avenge my friends, my family, my tribe,” 

\---

“MASTER ARMINIUS! There you are! I knew I’d find you in the study,” one of the household slaves called, “The circuses are today! You are expected to be present.” 

The blonde turned his head up from the scrolls to his slave. Sighing, the blond put the scroll back into its case. “I prefer to be called Armin. Arminius is so...formal.”  
“Get used to it. You’ll be running for public office in a few years. Come, there’s a change of clothes waiting for you in your room.”  
“Alright,” 

Arminius Arlertius Nerva fili Augustus was the adopted nephew of Emperor Trajan. He was on the list to be heir to the entire Roman Empire, and was almost guaranteed a senate seat from the time he was born. He was a talented orator, quite attractive, and many noted his witty, outside-of-box military tactics. Some even said that he might be the next Augustus if he played his cards right. He was benevolent and cared for the well-being of the public. Arminius also had a great love for education, art and literature. He was compared often to Claudius in that respect. The blonde slipped on an indigo-dyed toga that had a white lining. He glanced in the mirror and combed his hair briefly. A household slave strapped on his shoes and put on some perfume. 

“Vale, Master Arminius!” the household slaves waved as Arminius was accompanied by a few centurion guards down the street. He was escorted towards the bottom, near the senatorial section, with the other citizen men. Another meaningless slaughter just to appease the people of Rome. He supposed that it couldn't be helped if it kept the people of Rome from rebelling. 

“The debut of our newest gladiator--Eren Yeager of the Chauci tribe!” Levius announced. The crowd went wild. Armin lifted his cheek off of palm. His blue eyes blinked open. The Chauci. Didn’t Consul Tacitus write about them not that long ago? They were from the northeastern part of Germany. Armin inched closer towards the center to take a better look.  
The brown-hair, green-eyed teenager centered the stadium, his chest gleaming with humidity-induced sweat. His cheeks covered with dirt. Eren stuck his feet down into the dust-covered pit. His eyes met the face of a captured tiger. Taking his spear and piercing it into the tiger’s throat, Eren let its inner guts--stomach, lungs, intestines, shower him as he nailed the carcass into the ground.

“He’s...so...beautiful,” Armin blushed.  
“He just slaughtered a tiger like that! I haven’t seen such raw talent in years!” one of the senators behind Armin whispered.  
“Emperor Trajan, he must await your judgment.” 

Trajan put his thumb up, “All hail to Eren, the victorious gladiator! Truly the gods have gifted him with great amounts of strength to entertain the people of Rome!” the crowd roared as Armin fell silent, watching the gladiator look up at the crowd, covered head-to-toe in guts. Eren suddenly stopped his wandering gaze at Armin. Their hearts, for one moment, beat at the same rate in perfect harmony. One covered in luxurious perfume, one covered in bloodlust. 

“I must meet this Eren Yeager!” Armin insisted and ran towards his uncle’s private booth.


	2. Spears and Scrolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren is invited by Arminius to his villa for a night of fine dining, music and poetry--but is there more to the patrician's ambition than just admiration?

Chapter Duo: Spears and Scrolls

 

'Laugh and throw your fucking olive-branches at me, Romans. I will burn your carcasses and devour you like the beasts you are! Your villas, bathhouses, roads will be utterly destroyed from this Earth!' Eren thought as the olive-branches fell into the pit.

 

Levius stood, leaning against the gate to the pit. His black eyes narrowed, “Hm, he might actually last long. I’ll have to test him harder.” The circus-master entered the pit, stepping on olive branches that had fell, listening to them crunch below his sandals. He lightly tapped Eren on the shoulder, whispering,

“I know you’re enjoying your moment in glory, but we have to end this sooner or later.” Levius whispered. 

“Right,” Eren shook his head.

 

Levius glanced up at the crowd, “Thank you, people and senate of Rome! Glory to Divine Emperor, the senate, tribunes and thanks to the gods for providing such an honorable warrior! Best of health to all of you in the coming days! Pax Romana!”

 

Pax Romana—”Roman Peace”. In Eren’s opinion, there couldn’t be a more ironic phrase in just two words. As people finally began to leave, Levius dragged Eren into the private hallway from the pit. “You need to bathe. Right now; it sickens me that I have to smell you,”

 

“I’ve never been to a bathhouse,” Eren blinked. Granted, he knew of a few in towns not far from his village that had been completely Romanized, but he never had been there himself.

“Well, you’re going to one right now before I lose it just smelling those guts you managed to spill all over yourself,” Levius cringed and then turned to a few centurions, “Seize him and take him to the nearest bathhouse at once! I’ll pay for the entrance fee myself! Here’s ten sestertii. If that doesn’t cover it, find a cheaper bathhouse.”

 

The two centurions nodded and put down their spears. One held up Eren by the back and the other carried his legs.

 

—-

 

“Uncle—I mean, my Divine Honor, um,” Arminius asked after bribing the centurions to let him in. 

“Get in here, Armin,” Trajan ordered.

“Yes,” Armin knelt before his uncle.

“What do you want of me?” Trajan asked.

“I wish to meet this Eren Jaeger.” Armin answered. 

“And you come to me with this request? You know, I am a busy man. I’m presiding as consul over the Marius Priscus case next week. You’re a patrician. Write a request to the circus master to meet with him.” Trajan asked.

“I-I…thank you, but you see…I think I’m in love with him-” Armin blushed.

“You have yet to even meet him yet. This is rather naive of you.” Trajan pointed out.

“I will send out the invitation, my Divine Honor. May the gods be with you in the coming case.”

“You know, Arminius…you are expected to one day to become Emperor. You can’t just decide you’re in love with someone just by looking at them.” Trajan explained. 

“I know that. May ask who the circus master is,” Armin bowed and left.

“Gaius Levius,”

“Thank you,” Armin nodded, “Good day,” 

 

Armin went back to his mother’s villa. He sat in his study and took up his pen. His eyes met with the papyrus. He tightened his lips. He was just writing to the circus master, right? Not to Eren himself. He’d do that after he actually met him. Sighing and conjuring up his courage, he closed his eyes and pictured what he wanted to say.

 

“Dear Gaius Levius,

My name is Arminius Nerva Arlertius filia Augustus. I wish to meet this Eren Jaeger of the Chauci tribe. May I have permission to let him visit my villa at ___? Vale.”

 

—

 

Eren had to admit, the bathhouse was relaxing. He sat playing dice with Connie upon returning from it. Levius entered the courtyard and tapped Eren on the shoulder. “Eren, I overheard that you wanted to destroy Rome and kill all Romans.”

“Yes,” Eren’s green eyes immediately filled with passionate anger.

“Well, that’s rather ironic, seeing that you just got an invitation to the nephew of the Roman Emperor Trajan himself to visit his villa in the most upscale neighborhoods of Rome.”

“What?” Eren’s eyes widened.

“I’d go there in minute if I were you. If not, you might get the thumbs down next time,”

“…The nephew of the Emperor himself,” Connie blinked, “The hades does he want with you?”

“I’ll find out.” Eren smirked.

“By the way, before you leave, you’ll be fighting Connie next week, Eren.” Levius mentioned.

“Y-You mean I’ll have to-”

“Yes, one of you will have to kill the other,” Levius answered.

 

I’ll have to kill Connie?

 

—

 

The fence around Armin’s villa was made with limestone. There was a small entrance garden and then a large courtyard inside with the rest of the house surrounding it. The entrance garden had exotic plants brought from Egypt and Spain. There were olive vines growing on the sides of the building. The pillars were made with expertly-selected marble and crafted by Greek craftsmen. There were imported amphoras depicting Bacchic ceremonies, most likely used to carry wine for dinner parties. The moment

Eren stepped in the gateway, two slaves took his shoes off and carried him to a small room. They washed his feet, taking off all the grim and dust from the roads, and took off the itchy rag that Levius gave him. They instead gave him a robe made of fine Egyptian cotton dyed red. They sprayed oil-based perfume. Another slave guided him to a room where he told to lay down on some finely-spun sheets while a musician played some calming music. Footsteps came as a man with blond hair and blue eyes, wearing a an indigo-dyed toga and sprayed with the same perfume as he was wearing, entered.

 

“Eren, I finally get to meet you at long last. Welcome to my villa. My name is Arminius Nerva Arlertius, but I prefer you to call me Armin. Arminius is so…formal. I want us to be friends. Perhaps, even more?” He turned to a slave who replenished Eren’s glass of wine. “Tell me, what made you decide to become a gladiator?” Arminius—or Armin—lied down next to Eren.

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.” Eren answered, “My home village was burnt to the ground, my childhood friends Jean and Marco killed violently right in front of my eyes and my sister and mother…well, I never saw them again. I was sold into slavery shortly after being captured by a group of centurions who, for some unknown reason, decided not to kill me.”

Armin paused, “I cannot even begin to imagine that anguish that kind of experience would entail. My deepest condolences.”

“You’re a Roman! Why are you apologizing!? These were your men who killed them!”

“I wasn’t the one who ordered them to. I didn’t even know that you were rebelling at the time.”

“…True,” Eren shrugged.

“Eren, your hatred of Rome is more than justified. Though I want you to feel at ease here; you’ve been through so much, you deserve comfort after all of that trauma. I would be more than glad to provide it for you. Would you like some flamingo tongue? Some olive oil and bread?”

“What’s a flamingo?” Eren asked.

“It’s like a chicken, but they’re pink, tall, skinny and they eat lots of fish.” Armin explained. 

“Interesting,” Eren nodded.

“Try it,” Armin picked up the plate of flamingo tongues. Eren popped one of them into his mouth.

“Delicious,” His green eyes lit up.

“I had my cooks add some spice to it. Unspiced flamingo tongue is rather bland,” Armin sighed, “Do you like the music?”

“I-I do, I mean…I’m not someone to judge musical taste. This is actually the first time hearing a harp. I do like it.” Eren explained.

Armin blinked, The first time someone’s heard a harp? But he has to be at least in his mid teens. He’s around my age. I was two when I first heard the harp, at least that’s the first I remember hearing it. No, Arminius, try not to sound like a noble snob. He’s from the frontiers of Germania. You must continue to show him the best that Rome has to offer.

“I arranged for a Greek poet to read some of Catullus’ work. He was wonderful writer, I assure that you’ll like him.” Armin smiled. 

Eren continued to stuff himself with the flamingo tongues. These spices were so delicious, so addicting…so new to him. He needed to taste more. More! MORE! The tenderness, how the flavor exploded in his mouth. The sensation of this mystery spice was amazing. 

“I see you’re enjoying the flamingo tongues. I wish I had my cooks prepare more for you. If I had known that you were such a fan of cinnamon, I would’ve bought more.”

“Cinnamon?” That was what this spice was called? Eren paused, “This isn’t some kind of poison is it?” He backed away from Armin, who chuckled.

“No, not at all! It’s an import from India. Is this your first time tasting it?”

“I haven’t even heard of India…where’s India?” Eren felt stupid for a moment.

“It’s east of here. We often trade with them.”

“How much was this?”

“About…um…rather cheap as far as spices go, I’d say thirty denarii a libra-”

“WHAT!?” Eren’s eyes widened. Only thirty denarii?! Eren hadn’t seen so many denarii since the slave auction. He was auctioned off for three-hundred denarii. If a spice that’s only one libra could go for thirty denarii—how much would three-hundred go for? He, Eren Jaeger, could be measured next to a spice from some place he’s never heard of that’s used to simply sprinkle on the tongues of birds just add flavor to it! He entirety—his life, his soul, his body, everything—was only a ten times a libra of that whatever cinnamon shit was! 

 

Armin realized his mistake, “I mean, I apologize if that comment made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Its just…I just auctioned off for three-hundred denarii.” Eren answered.

Armin glanced down at the floor, “You’re worth far more than three hundred denarii.”

“Oh really? What’d you buy me for?” Eren asked.

“You’re priceless in my book.” Armin grimaced.

“Priceless? I thought men like you always thought everything could be measured by denarii!”

“Eren, on every denarii, there are two sides. One is the glory of Rome, and one is the pain behind the curtain,” Armin answered, “A perfect example is what we’re doing right now; on one side of the coin, we’re enjoying a fine afternoon and harp music, on the other side, I see the face of those that we must conquer without thinking of who we might be hurting in the end.”

“Arminius…,” Eren paused. 

“Armin,” the Roman planted a kiss on Eren cheek, “I call you Eren, you call me Armin. Here, I only want us to see one side of the denarii. I know that everywhere else you see the other side, but…I want you to not hate us. You are our guest, my guest,”

 

Armin kissed Eren on the lips, and then used his tongue. “Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all.”

“Can you free me?”

“Make you a freedman? A simple enough request, I suppose. I would have to speak with your circus master first. Gaius Levius was it? Perhaps I could even grant you citizenship if I pulled the right strings,” Armin caressed the back of Eren’s jaw and whispered, “I’ll grant you a piece of land; you’ll be wealthy, a patrician, a staff of slaves to tend to your fields, and your children will enjoy a quality education. You enjoy harp-playing? You’ll be sick of it by the time you’re thirty if the gods grant that you live that long. You’ll have all of the cinnamon and flamingo tongues that you ever want. You’ll never have to wear another rag again.”

“You can do all of that?” Eren asked.

“If I play my cards right to the senate and to my uncle, yes.” Armin nodded.

 

Eren sat back, leaning against the fresco-covered wall. On one side of the denarii, Armin was offering him a life of luxury, of cinnamon, everything he never dreamt of having at his every command. On the other side of the denarii, he was betraying his village. He thought of Jean. Jean would take this opportunity head-first. Marco would be a bit more hesitant. He wasn’t quite sure what his mother would think. Not only that, but his children…his children’s children…his family line would have everything—education, spices, culture, freedom. “I…I…I accept,”

“I will first speak to your circus master. It shouldn’t be too difficult to saude him. My uncle? A far more difficult task, but I have confidence in myself. I’m to be emperor one day, after all. I have to be able to persuade men like him to make major decisions. Perhaps your son or descendant could even be a senator.” Armin smiled. Eren’s eyes widened. He pictured his grandson clad in a purple-striped toga.

“If you don’t mind…perhaps I could have some wine?” Eren asked.

“Of course,” Armin smiled.

 

Upon enjoying a four-course meal, lying on the floor, the Greek poet came in. “This is Catallus’ How Many Kisses: To Lesbia

Lesbia, you ask how many kisses of yours

would be enough and more to satisfy me.

As many as the grains of Libyan sand

that lie between hot Jupiter’s oracle,

at Ammon, in resin-producing Cyrene,

and old Battiades sacred tomb:

or as many as the stars, when night is still,

gazing down on secret human desires:

as many of your kisses kissed

are enough, and more, for mad Catullus,

as can’t be counted by spies

nor an evil tongue bewitch us.”

 

Eren sat, his wine-induced mind picturing his tongue in Armin’s mouth. He lied back, listening to the poet recite more. Armin smiled as he ordered his household slaves to carry Eren to his bed. That night, Eren, drunk and tired, lost his innocence to the personification of what he hated most in the world. The side of the denarii that burnt his village to the ground. As he finally fell asleep, he heard his mother’s voice.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, EREN JAEGER!?”

“Mother…,”

“You’re sleeping with the men that raped and killed me! You disgust me! You’re no longer my son, you filthy Roman!”

Roman. Eren’s eyes shot up. He was a Roman. The race he swore to wipe off the face of the Earth. Armin’s arm caressed and reached over Eren’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“…I’m a Roman.”

“And? Is there something wrong with that?” Armin asked.

“It’s just…a shock is all.”

“You’ll love it here. It might take some adjusting, coming from the frontiers, but eventually you’ll find yourself comfortable. It won’t take long, I assure you.”

 

Eren sighed. At least he won’t have to kill Connie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The trial against Marius Priscus is one of the more famous court cases in Ancient Rome. Trajan presided as consul (sort of like our Speaker of the House) and the prosecutors were Tacitus and Pliny the Younger, representing the providence. Marius Priscus was accused of abusing his powers as governor of a province in Africa.
> 
> -You had to pay an entrance free (which was rather cheap) for the public baths
> 
> -Libra was a unit of weight
> 
> -Sestertii was a very common silver coin.
> 
> -The average male Roman slave was worth five hundred denarii. So Eren was discounted.
> 
> -Ancient Rome did trade with India.
> 
> -A lot of cities in the frontiers were Romanized to extend the Emperor’s influence and to unite the Empire because it was so big. 
> 
> -Catullus was a poet who lived in the late Roman Republic. He’s noted for his erotic verse. According to Pliny the Younger, it was typical that after dinner they would listen to a poet recite. 
> 
> -Yes, one luxurious Roman food was in fact the tongues of flamingos.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical footnotes:  
> -This takes place in the year 100CE  
> -The universal dress for a "Barbarian" was a cloak and deer hide, certainly much different than a stola or toga.  
> -Although I do not know exactly if the Chauci fought naked, but the Gauls and some other Celtic tribes did, according to Julius Caesar's accounts.  
> -Indigo was an extremely expensive dye.  
> -Cornelius Tacitus, writer of "Germania", "Annals", "Histories" and "Agricola", is the writer Armin is referring to.  
> -Trajan reigned 98-117.  
> -A phalanx is an ancient formation of a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.


End file.
